


Cupcake

by islandgirl



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Anxious Evan "Buck" Buckley, Caring Eddie Diaz, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Stress Baking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:07:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24067090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/islandgirl/pseuds/islandgirl
Summary: He’s been at this for hours, Eddie realizes, fingers brushing against a cool cupcake. It’s a devastating thought. He’s been here, just out of reach, all night, trying to work through the knot of emotions and thoughts running wild in his head.
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV)
Comments: 13
Kudos: 466





	Cupcake

Eddie sighs, burying his face further into the pillow, unaware of what pulled him from the warm cocoon of sleep. His right hand slides from under the pillow, reaching out for the warm body usually tucked up close to him. His hand meets nothing but cool, empty sheets. 

“Dad?”

Christopher’s sleepy voice yanks Eddie to full awareness. He turns his head to the other side of the bed, eyes opening. Chris never wakes him up in the middle of the night unless something is very wrong. Eddie can make out the little boy’s shape standing in the doorway lit by the soft glow of the kitchen light. Why is the kitchen light on? Eddie’s reaching for the lamp as he sits up.

“Buddy? Everything okay?”

Chris rubs his eyes tiredly and shuffles the rest of the way into the room. Eddie swings his legs out of bed, reaching for the kid when he’s close enough. Chris sighs, wrapping his arms around Eddie’s waist as he buries his face in his dad’s stomach. Eddie cards a hand softly through those riotous curls, running soothingly up and down his back. He doesn’t seems upset, really, Eddie realizes, not like he gets after a nightmare. No fever either, he decides after he settles a hand across his son’s forehead. Chris just seems … tired. So why wasn’t he fast asleep in bed. It’s almost 3am.

“What’s going on, buddy?” Eddie asks again, tipping Chris’s head back so he can look into those sleepy blue eyes.

“Think something’s wrong with Buck,” Chris tells him, rubbing again at his eyes.

“What?”

It isn’t exactly odd for Buck to get up in the middle of the night. While Eddie sleeps like the dead when he’s home, Buck’s sleep is a little more … restless. It was something Eddie had to get used to, sharing a bed with the other man. When Eddie’s head hits the pillow most nights, he’s out like a light minutes later, not waking until his alarm goes off the next morning. Buck, on the other hand, is up and down all night. He tosses and turns, wakes at odd intervals, some nights even getting out of bed to move through house for a few minutes before he can settle back down. 

So it’s not unusual for Buck’s side of the bed to be empty in the middle of the night. It is odd, however, for Buck to not have heard Chris get up or come back to check on them now that the bedroom light is on. And now that he’s focusing, he can hear a softy whirring sound. Is that vanilla he smells?

“Bucky’s in the kitchen,” Chris clues him in. “He’s baking.”

At 3am? Eddie sighs softly. That can’t be good. Eddie stands up and lifts Christopher up into his arms, making his way back to his son’s room. As he steps into the hallway, he can definitely smell it now; the whole house smells sweet like a fresh baked cake. He tucks Chris back into bed, watching as he settles back under his covers, arms wrapping tight around his stuffed bear.

“Get some more sleep, bud,” Eddie swoops down and gives his forehead a kiss.

“What about Buck?”

“I’ll take care of Buck,” Eddie reassures him, watching his son’s eyes bob heavily with the urge to sleep. “Sleep tight kiddo.”

Eddie eases Chris’s door most of the way closed, wanting to cut out most of the light and sound that drifts back the hallway. He makes his way down the hallway, but finds himself pausing in the entranceway to the kitchen, squinting against the soft glow of the light. His heart stutters in his chest as he takes in the sight before him.

Buck is standing near the oven, back to Eddie, as he mixes something in a bowl by hand, head and shoulders bowed with the weight of the world it seems. The kitchen island and the dining room table are covered in un-iced cupcakes. There’s easily six dozen scattered across the surface in their bright, cheery paper cups. The sink is filled with every mixing bowl Eddie owns, which has easily doubled since Buck moved in. There’s a pot of coffee still keeping warm, maybe a cup or two left. Eddie hopes it wasn’t full to start with when he spots the mug next to Buck’s elbow. There are ingredients scattered over the counter near the mixer, still whirring and stirring another bowl. 

He’s been at this for hours, Eddie realizes, fingers brushing against a cool cupcake. It’s a devastating thought. He’s been here, just out of reach, all night, trying to work through the knot of emotions and thoughts running wild in his head. Buck probably never actually slept. Eddie remembers falling asleep with Buck tucked against his side. He’d tried to stay awake a little longer, tried to make sure Buck was in an okay headspace, but the events of the day caught up with him and sleep had snuck in and stole away with him. Looks like today had finally caught up with Buck too.

Quietly moving into the kitchen, Eddie stealthily lifts the lid of the coffee pot as he passes, casting a furtive glance at the basket full of coffee grounds. Full pot then, he sighs, flicking the switch to ‘Off’. No more coffee for Buck tonight. Reaching Buck, Eddie gently settles his hands into the dip of Buck’s waist, right above his hips, and rests his head between Buck’s shoulder blades. The reaction is instantaneous. The moment Eddie touches him, Buck stills. He can still feel the tension thrumming through Buck, can feel the knots of stress in his shoulders, but Buck ceases his movements.

A moment later there’s a soft clank as the bowl Buck was holding thumps to the counter. Eddie slides his hands further around Buck’s waist until he is holding him, embracing him with just barely-there pressure. If Buck wants more, he’ll initiate it, Eddie knows. Buck is in control here and he’ll let Eddie know what he needs, whether that’s for Eddie to haul him away from this or to leave him be. He doesn’t want to leave Buck alone to his thoughts and to dozens more cupcakes, but he will if that is what Buck needs to work through it.

Buck’s hands settle on Eddie’s, squeezing and pulling them closer together. A heavy sigh slips passed Buck’s lips as he settles into Eddie’s arm, some of the tension falling away. After a moment, Buck turns in the circle of Eddie’s arms, wrapping around him until they are pressed together. 

It used to be sex. That’s what got Buck through whatever life threw his way. Sex was a way to make him feel good and feel good about himself, it gave him a space in time where his mind wouldn’t run away with thoughts and feelings he couldn’t quite pin down. At least that’s what Buck had told him once. Then it became exercise. The endorphin rush and adrenaline pumping through him as he pushed his body just a bit harder. If he focused on his form, he wasn’t focusing on everything else he couldn’t control. It all changed after Buck’s leg injury. Those first few months he wasn’t up to running five or six miles a day, hell he could barely make it up and down the stairs. He’d needed to find another outlet, something that would let his mind quiet for a while until he could process everything.

That’s when Bobby swooped in with the save. Cooking. He’d been teaching Buck for a while, adamant that it was imperative for the kid to learn that basic life skill. After Buck’s injury, though, it took on a whole new meaning. Bobby taught him more in-depth recipes than waffles or omelets, recipes that required time and patience and concentration. Chopping mounds of vegetables for veggie chili or rolling and cutting up gnocchi took Buck out of his head as easily as push-ups. The cooking eventually evolved into baking as Buck researched and experimented on his own, much to Christopher’s delight. 

Eddie loved to see the soft easy look on Buck’s face when he was consumed with a task, knowing that Buck was in a good headspace. Then there were nights like tonight, when Buck’s cooking or baking became almost obsessive, like he couldn’t stop on his own. Eddie wished there was more he could do besides plant himself next to Buck and quietly reassure him that he was here. He couldn’t do anything about the tangle of guilt and grief swimming through his head, as misplaced as it is.

“That’s quite a lot of cupcakes,” Eddie murmurs against the curve of Buck’s throat, hands sweeping up and down the planes of the man’s back, a steady reassurance.

A shrill beep sounds from the oven, breaking them apart. Buck spins around rapidly, hands slapping at the timer button to cut off the noise before it can beep again, waking Chris up. Grabbing the oven mitts, Buck pulls two more trays of cupcakes from the oven and deposits them on the cooling rack. He leans against the counter with a soft sigh and, in that moment, Eddie can see that whatever frenetic energy Buck had before drain out of him. He looks absolutely exhausted.

“Why don’t you come back to bed?” 

Eddie’s reaching out for him, fingers snagging in the fabric of Buck’s shirt and pulling him close again before he can think too much about it. He never pushes, knows that Buck needs to find peace in his own time, but something about the dull, lifeless look in his eyes is making Eddie toe the line. His need to help Buck now a physical ache in his chest that he can’t ignore.

“Gotta finish these,” Buck murmurs, motioning to the half-empty bowl of chocolate cake batter sitting on the counter.

“Okay then,” Eddie nods, taking a step back. “What can I do to help?”

“What?” Buck looks genuinely confused for a moment before the words sink in. “No, Eddie. No. Go back to bed. I’ll be in soon.”

Eddie shakes his head, grabbing Buck’s hands and giving them a squeeze. “Let me help you, Buck.” 

It’s a loaded sentence and they both know it. Buck’s eyes glitter with sudden tears as he absorbs Eddie’s words. Finally he nods, head ducking as he swipes at his eyes.

“Just gotta get these cupcakes out of the pan so they can cool,” Buck tells him softly, handing over an oven mitt. His eyes won’t meet Eddie’s as he picks up a pan and slowly pops cupcakes out of the pan.

Eddie follows his lead, working quietly as he eases the still warm cakes from their place nestled in the pan. His eyes keep drifting to Buck as he works, noting the slight tremor in his fingers and the droop of his shoulders. Buck finishes first, turning away from Eddie’s watchful gaze to attend to the mixer still churning away on the other counter. Buck turns it off, dipping a spatula into the bowl with an experimental poke before he pulls it back out.

“Icing?” Eddie asks, seeing the dollop of white on the end of the spatula.

Buck cuts him a look, slightly annoyed as he corrects Eddie automatically. “Buttercream.”

Eddie ‘ahhhs’ and nods, ducking his head back down so Buck won’t see his smirk. He knows how much it drives Buck crazy when he uses the wrong terms for cooking or baking on purpose. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Buck’s lips quirk up in the slightest hint of a smile. Success. Buck holds the spatula out for him as Eddie removes the last cupcake from the pan. He sweeps his finger through the dollop and tastes, a soft hum slipping free as he nods and smiles at Buck.

“It’s amazing, babe,” he tells him softly, dropping a soft, chaste kiss to Buck’s lips. “What else can I do?”

Buck glances around the messy kitchen, looking for a place to start. There are ingredients scattered everywhere, dishes that need to be washed, and dozens of cupcakes to frost and store. Now that Eddie has pulled him out of his head, he seems to be struggling to focus on any one thing again. Eddie slides a grounding hand across his lower back and feels the shiver run through Buck as he takes a deep breath.

“Cupcakes,” Buck decides. He picks up a stack of paper liners and hands them off to Eddie. “We gotta get the last batch in the oven.”

Eddie takes them with a nod, quickly dispersing them into the cupcake pan. Buck follows behind him, bowl of batter tucked in one arm, and fills each cup. And just like that, they have two dozen more cupcakes. Buck slides the pans in the oven, setting the timer, while Eddie takes the dirty dishes to the sink. Buck has gone through a truly impressive number of dishes, he thinks, as he fills all of them with water to soak.

“I’ll wash,” Buck tells him quietly, sliding up and trying to nudge Eddie away from the sink with his hip.

Eddie won’t budge however, glancing at Buck in confusion for a moment before he shakes his head. It’s almost 4am, he has no intention of standing here and doing dishes, nor is he going to let Buck do them either. They are both going to bed as soon as those cupcakes come out of the oven.

“Let ‘em soak for a while. We’ll do them in the morning,” Eddie placates, running his hands up and down Buck’s arms. “Let’s finish cleaning up and get these cupcakes packed away.”

“The buttercream,” Buck starts.

“Will keep overnight in the fridge,” Eddie reasons. “Plus, you know how much Chris loves to help you in the kitchen. He’ll be thrilled to help you _frost_ all these cupcakes.” He puts emphasis on it just to watch the amusement flick across Buck’s face. Each small smile from the man eases the bands of worry constricting Eddie’s chest.

“Okay,” Buck finally relents.

Buck pulls out every dish they own that’s big enough to hold the cupcakes and gets to work packing them into the plastic containers. Eddie returns all the ingredients to their proper places, cleaning the excess flour and spilled sugar up as he goes. In a matter of a few minutes, the kitchen is returned back to it’s almost normal state. There’s still two dozen cupcakes sitting on cooling racks in the middle of the counter and about to be two dozen more joining them momentarily, but they can deal with them in the morning, Eddie decides.

By now, Eddie is tired and knows that Buck has got to be running on fumes at this point. One glance at the timer shows they still have at least ten minutes until the last trays come out. He’s not sure he can stand that long. Giving Buck’s hand a tug, Eddie pulls him down to sit on the kitchen floor with him. Buck gives him an odd look, but follows along, folding his legs up to sit criss-cross next to Eddie, leaning into his side and letting his head drop to Eddie’s shoulder. Nestled between the end of the island and the oven door, Eddie watches as something close to relief washes over Buck’s face, lines of tension easing up. He sighs, turning his head enough to press a kiss to Buck’s forehead.

“You do know that Chris is gonna want a cupcake for breakfast, right?”

Buck’s chuckle is soft and weak, but it still warms Eddie’s chest to hear it.

“Course he will,” Buck mutters against Eddie’s shoulder. “Got a sweet tooth just like his dad.”

Sitting in the soft glow of the oven light, Eddie watches as the cupcakes bake and Buck slowly figures out how to piece himself back together again. Instead of answering, Eddie reaches his free hand up, tapping around the counter until his fingers wrap around the nearest cupcake. He pulls it down with a smirk and starts to peel the paper away. Buck’s smile stretches wider as he shakes his head. Eddie breaks the cupcake in half and holds a piece of it out to Buck.

Finally, Buck picks his head up, accepting the cake. “Thanks,” he murmurs.

Eddie gets the distinct feeling he’s not talking about the cake. “Always.”

After a moment, Buck tucks himself back into Eddie’s side and they wait in silence as the timer slowly ticks down. When it gets to a minute, Buck sluggishly extracts himself. Standing up, he extends a hand down to Eddie and pulls him up. He turns the oven off and the timer, not wanting to disturb the peaceful silence that’s descended once again over the house. Once the last tray is out of the oven, it’s like someone has cut the strings holding Buck up. He droops against the counter, eyes heavy with exhaustion.

“Come on,” Eddie encourages, tugging Buck away from the counter and steering him towards the bedroom. “Time for bed.”

It’s a testament to how done Buck is that he doesn’t protest at all, just lets Eddie guide him into bed. Eddie eases himself in his side of the bed, close enough to Buck for reassurance, but far enough away to give him space if he wants it. A moment later, Buck is rolling into his side, head pillowed on Eddie’s chest with a soft sigh, eyes already closed. Eddie runs a hand across Buck’s back and settles in, hoping for a few hours of sleep for the both of them.

It’s just after 4am, but Eddie is eternally grateful that it is Sunday and they can all sleep in. No school, no work, just a lazy day at home planned. All too soon Chris is going to be up and awake, but Eddie knows he can hold him off for an extra hour or so with the promise of cartoons or his iPad. He also knows they’ll cave and let Chris eat a cupcake with his cereal in the morning. He’ll probably help Buck frost all the cupcakes while Eddie does the laundry and the dishes. And after dinner, they’ll settle on the couch to watch a movie before an early bedtime for everyone.

Eddie also knows that, given the time and space to process it all, eventually Buck will curl up to his side in the dark and the safety of their bed and finally give voice to everything he’s been struggling with tonight. And Eddie will sit and listen to it all, holding Buck close and showing him support in the best way he knows how. He can’t change Buck’s thoughts or the way the feels everything with such intensity. What he can do is be there, ready to pull Buck back from the brink. And he will. Every time.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Come yell at me on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/cptmeatball)!


End file.
